Phoenix
by Disastergirl
Summary: In a world filled with uncertainty and fear, Roy Mustang finds himself forever changed when he becomes the unwilling prey of the state. Chimera AU. Royai.
1. Prologue

_A/N: Okay, okay, so I know I have other fics that I said I'd finish but haven't and now I'm starting a whole new fic, but... I owe Antigone Rex a giftfic and she wanted me to publish and continue this fic, which I stated ages ago but sort of accidentally abandoned, story of my life, I know. But we'll see how it goes. Also I just realised how many times I said the word 'fic' in that first sentence. Oh well._

_Massive thanks to Antigone Rex, my beta, and to mebh for all her support when I was first started writing this. They're both amazing writers and if you haven't already checked out their work you definitely should. Also I don't own FMA._

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Pain... pain like nothing he had ever known ran through his body, coursing through his nerves, dancing over his sweat-soaked skin. It vibrated in his bones, a deep primal agony resonating across every fibre of his being. His skeleton twisted again as it shrank and reformed, his organs moulding themselves around the new shape of his body. For a moment the world disappeared; nothing existed except the pain, white hot and searing through his mind, destroying all other thought. His screams echoed off the damp stone walls, ceasing only for each sobbing breath before sounding once more. He writhed against his bonds but, as always, they held fast. The sharp sting of the blood-slick manacles cutting into his wrists was barely noticeable against the violent waves that racked his broken form.

After a long time - or what seemed like a long time, he no longer had any way of telling - the pain died down, reduced to a constant, quiet hum and he found himself becoming aware of his surroundings once more. There was a hand gripping his chin, a man's hand, callused and strong. Another grabbed his hair in a tight fist, forcing his head to turn. He opened his eyes but he could see nothing, only brief bursts of colour dancing in the shadowy blackness. He couldn't bring himself to care. Exhaustion and the memory of the agony he had just endured erased all concern except the avoidance of further pain.

"Good morning, Lieutenant Colonel Mustang," a voice rumbled, dark intent disguised behind a pleasant tone. That voice... he knew that voice. Strong, powerful... that voice had commanded his deepest respect, once. But now... he shrank away, unable to hold back a whimper. Now that voice inspired only fear.

"Now, now, Colonel," the voice chastised, a thread of amusement woven through its rich tones. "I'd have thought you'd have learnt the value of a little courtesy by now. Won't you wish me a good morning back?"

The voice wanted something of him, he knew that much, but his head was filled with static and the words made no sense. He opened his mouth in a desperate attempt to beg for the voice's understanding, to explain to it that he _wanted_ to obey, but it was no use. He flinched as a hand struck his cheek, the slap ringing in his ears and bringing tears to his eyes.

"Please, your Excellency," another voice cut in, this one stuttering and obsequious. "The subject has just undergone quite a severe round of skeletal restructuring; it'll be quite a while before he's coherent enough to respond to questions. This time is quite crucial, I'm afraid; if he gets unduly distressed between treatments the impact on his health could be quite severe."

"Is that so? Well, I suppose we wouldn't want that to happen." His hair was released but the hand on his cheek remained. A single finger stroked up and down his skin, chasing the remnants of tears from below his sightless eyes. A thumb traced the edges of his open mouth, wiping away the blood from where he had bitten his lip in his agony. He gasped at the touch, so much gentler than any he had felt in far too long, but he did not allow himself to lean into it. No matter its sudden kindness, he knew whoever lay behind the voice and its hands did not wish him well. He could not let himself trust them, however tempting it may be.

"My, my, how low the mighty have fallen, Mustang." The voice chuckled. "Look at how pathetic you are now. I bet you don't even remember your own name, let alone mine." The voice turned away to speak to the other person. "You've done a good job cutting down his body mass so far; I hardly recognised him at first."

"He's still not thin enough," the second voice replied, sounding irritated. "He's out by about two stone, that's why we're putting him through skeletal restructuring now. At this point, further caloric restriction just isn't an option."

The voice leaned in closer, one hand running over the jutting angles of his bones beneath his skin, tracing the concave curve of his stomach. A hint of something that might have been regret ran through the voice' lowered tones. "And you used to be such a handsome young man, Colonel...such a shame. Still... they say you have to break something down in order to rebuild it. You should understand that, you're an alchemist. Or you _were_, I suppose I should say."

The shadows over his eyes were beginning to fade away, vague shapes making themselves known from out of the darkness. He saw the face hovering above his, a single dark eye gleaming in the flickering light. Recognition flooded into him at last, the merciful oblivion shattered as he stared into the eye of his tormentor. Fuhrer Bradley, ruler of the state of Amestris and commander of the military. He remembered it all. His name was Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist and decorated veteran of the Ishvalan Rebellion. Or at least, he had been. Now he was nothing, a hideous, misshapen experiment; an abomination born of the mind of the man who stood laughing down at his pain. A pathetic creature smeared in blood and filth, unable even to control his own body.

Mustang tried to pull away as the Fuhrer reached out to touch him again. His breath came in short, shallow gasps and tears of terror pricked the edges of his eyes. He hated himself for his weakness but he could no more control his reactions than he could break free from the iron chains encircling his limbs. He had no idea how many weeks or months he had been held captive but it had been enough to make him forget all memory of strength.

Bradley laughed again, one hand ruffling Roy's sweat-soaked and tangled hair in a twisted parody of affection. "I see you recognise me at last, Mustang. I must admit, I'm impressed. These so-called experts here insisted it would take far longer than this before you were even vaguely cognizant. But then, you have always impressed me; that's one of the reasons I chose you for this project." His expression darkened and Mustang whimpered, the sound shivering and involuntary, some finely sharpened, instinctive part of his mind anticipating pain. "Your underhand scheming and regrettable lack of loyalty to myself and the military you served being the other reason, of course." Bradley's voice was like the sharp edge of a sword's blade and it took everything he had not to scream as it cut through him.

"Fuhrer Bradley, I'm afraid I must ask you to step away now. The subject is becoming too distressed by your presence." The second voice spoke out of the shadows, startling Mustang. He had almost forgotten it was there. He could give form to this voice now, too. Not a face, no, that changed every time, but the sharp cut of a white coat and the air of unfeeling, clinical cruelty; that remained constant. This particular voice sounded younger than those he heard before, but he knew that would make no difference. They were all the same. "This level of agitation could disrupt his treatment, which would set the project back considerably. I think it's best if he's sedated now, before any permanent damage is done."

Mustang barely felt the needle as it slid into his arm although he shivered at the touch of the cold hands on his skin, sheathed in surgical gloves and apathy; so different from the Fuhrer's warm, possessive touches. He gasped as the drug rushed through his blood. Tears spilled out from under his eyelids and his eyes rolled back into his head as he surrendered to the drug. The last thing he felt before all sensation left him was the gentle touch of callused fingers brushing his tears away.

* * *

Bradley let his hand linger on Mustang's face, watching as the young former lieutenant colonel fell into unconsciousness. He could not help but smile at the way Mustang's cheek turned to press itself closer to his fingers, some primal part of his mind desperate for the comfort he denied himself while awake. It would not take long before the alchemist was broken completely, before he truly became the loyal dog he had once pretended to be. Well... not quite a _dog_, Bradley thought, allowing himself another smile at the pun. But whatever his form, Mustang would be loyal to _him_, and him only. The day would come when the once proud Flame Alchemist would kneel willingly at Bradley's feet, begging for his approval and affection, begging to be allowed to serve. Yes, that day would come and, in the haunted corners of Mustang's eyes, Bradley could see that he understood that only too well. It was just a matter of time.

"I hope the progress we have made is satisfactory, your Excellency," the doctor said, pulling Bradley away from that pleasant train of thought. The man was unfamiliar, one of the newer members of the team and still clearly awed by his nation's ruler. He stood slightly to the side, watching Bradley's interactions with Mustang with obvious distaste, however well he might have thought he was hiding it. Bradley didn't care what the doctor thought. So few mortals understood the thrill that came with defeating one's enemies, of crushing them completely, turning their strengths against them until they lost all shreds of resistance. With no one had that victory been sweeter than with Mustang: the military's golden child, the beautiful young poster boy of the Ishvallan war who could bring such breathtaking destruction with so much grace. He had dared believe that he could betray his masters; that he could look into Bradley's eyes and speak words of loyalty, all the while plotting to overthrow him. Bradley soon taught him the folly of that naive belief. Breaking such a defiant spirit was proving to be a truly wonderful experience.

"Quite satisfactory," the fuhrer replied, running a proprietorial eye over Mustang once more. He didn't think he would ever get tired of the sight before him. The thought of what that broken body would soon become... it was intoxicating. He turned his eye back to the doctor, hitting him with the full power of his gaze. "Although I must admit that I had hoped we would have moved past these preliminary stages, by now. While the quality of the work is indisputable, the timing is... less commendable."

The doctor seemed to shrink into himself, like a small animal faced with fiercer competition, his face growing pale as a fine sheen of sweat beaded on his forehead. "Fuhrer Bradley, sir, I can assure you that every effort is being made to meet the targeted deadlines for the project. Unfortunately, the issues associated with mass reduction and skeletal restructuring have been more challenging than we first anticipated. I...I'm afraid that if you wish the project to proceed at a faster pace then we will have to abandon any further reduction in body mass. After all..." The doctor faltered but then continued speaking; a brave decision, Bradley thought. "Certain prehistoric species have been thought to weigh up to one hundred and seventy pounds..."

Bradley smiled, struggling to hold back his amusement at the look of terror it elicited in the doctor. He did so enjoy intimidating weak humans and this one was such an easy target. "That may well be the case, doctor," he began, watching the man bristle at the condescending tone. Humans were really most amusing. "And that would be all very well and good- if we were living in prehistoric times. But the simple fact is that this is the modern day and there are no surviving species of bird larger than about thirty three pounds. While obviously that weight is an unrealistic target, it is vital that you attempt to reach a weight as close to that as possible. I specified that the subject was to become an eagle chimera, both to compliment his... particular alchemical abilities... and because he would be invaluable as a tool for surveillance and espionage. Now, if our chimera here were to be about five times larger than any flying species alive, don't you think that would be a little suspicious?

"O-of course, your Excellency," the doctor replied, wringing his hands together. "Forgive me for questioning your decision. I can assure you that I and the entire team are dedicated to the success of this project and we look forward to its completion as eagerly as yourself, my Fuhrer."

Bradley doubted the truth of that statement. The alchemists he had chosen for this particular project were all loyal, that was true, and eager to please him, but they would not be the ones to command the beautiful creature they had created. And Mustang _would_ be beautiful by the time they were finished with him. Not only that, he would be exceptional. Unique. He would rise from the ashes of the shattered, suffering body before him and emerge as a true alchemical masterpiece, an undeniable symbol of Amestris' strength. Pride had always been the domain of his elder brother but imagining his chimera, resplendent in all its glory and more loyal than even the bravest soldier, Bradley could not help but feel its warm glow. He could hardly wait for the day the work on Mustang was finished. He needed to see the completion of the chimera he had given so much to create, to watch as his phoenix was born from the fire.

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_Thanks for reading! x_


	2. Chapter 1

_A/N: Here we go! Already I am falling behind schedule... oh well. :S Thanks loads to my beta Antigone Rex and to everyone who supported the first chapter of this fic. _

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_Up this high, the air was freezing. Each breath burned his lungs and his heart pounded out a painful rhythm against his ribs, each beat coming far too fast, far too shallow. He rode the currents of the wind, too weak now to even try and fly under his own power. Blood dripped steadily from the cuts on his wings and back, staining his feathers and matting them together in wet, sticky clumps. There was blood flowing down from a cut on his forehead too, meandering into his eyes and obscuring his vision but moving his wings hurt too much to wipe it away. Through the haze of red he could see his enemies on the horizon, only a few dark specks against the blue sky now, but getting closer with every second__. _

_Of course; he should have known better than to think he could have outflown them. That had been their plan all along, to weaken him and then to chase him up here, where the air was thinner, where he could not so readily defend himself. How could he have let that happen to him? In a few more moments his enemies would be upon him; even now he could make out the shapes of their wings and their sharp, vicious talons, stained red with his own blood. He had no hope of defeating the flock here. He was too weak and there were far, far too many of them. His only hope was to escape to lower skies and hope his powers were still strong enough to defend himself when his enemies inevitably followed. He was injured, it was true, but he was still far superior to these twisted imitations._

_Catching a swift downdraft of wind, he spread his wings to their full length, letting the currents carry him towards the ground. He fought down a scream at the sudden pain his movements caused. Some of his ligaments were probably torn but there was no need to let his pursuers know that.__ The wind rushed around his body as he swept downwards at faster and faster speeds. He could make out the shape of the land below him now, still too far away to make out any details but he was low enough to give him the advantage he needed. The air around him was thick with oxygen, perfect for his abilities. And he was flying directly into the path of his enemies. _

_They were almost upon him now. He gathered the air around him, feeling the brand on the back of his neck __glow with the same sharp, painful heat as always and the familiar pressure of the oxygen building up around him. It weighed down upon him, heavier and heavier, shimmering with heat. He could almost hear the angry humming of each individual molecule as they vibrated with unreleased energy. Then, just as the flock finally descended around him, their sharp claws gleaming, their screeching raucous and thirsty for blood, he struck his talons together. There was the quiet sound of flint meeting flint, a spark, and then the air around him exploded in a billow of almost transparent flame. It swept through the swarm of his enemies with indiscriminate fury, searing flesh and crumbling bone before the creatures could even draw breath to scream__. Within seconds all that was left was a gentle rain of ash and the echoing sound of his own cries. _

_It hurt - every time - and this had been one of the worst. He could not be harmed by his own flames, but neither could he fully protect himself from their effect. The protective shield he built around himself was enough to keep the fire from burning him but did almost nothing to defend him from its heat. In some dark, rusted part of his mind he recognised that this was right, this was his penance, but for what he could not remember. So much of what he had once known had been lost to him. _

_The flames burned out quickly without a fresh supply of gases to consume, leaving him alone, gasping and shuddering with agony and exhaustion. It took all his strength simply to remain aloft, but finding a safe place to land and rest was not an option. He had to return back to his masters in time or the consequences would be far greater than the pain he was suffering now. He stared into the distance, towards his destination. The outline of the city sprawled lazily across the horizon, a soft haze of smog hovering in the sky above it. A cloud bank, dark and heavy with rain, loomed in the west; another obstacle, almost as perilous as the flock of creatures given the state he was in. But he had no choice- he had to brave the weather if he stood any chance of returning before the sun set. Taking a deep breath, he angled his wings in the direction of the north westerly wind and began to fly towards Central city._

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Riza walked hurriedly though the darkening street, pulling her hood down to protect her from the worsening rain. The sky, such a clear, deep blue when she had left Headquarters only half an hour ago, was now covered in a layer of thick, grey clouds, hiding the sun and spitting rain onto the streets below. It was only early evening in September but it was already as dark as night. She wished now that she had stayed in Headquarters to work on the reports for the Aerugoan affair instead of hurrying home as soon as office hours ended. The reports may have been long and dull but at least she would have been in a warm, comfortable office instead of fighting her way through rain and biting wind.

It wasn't as if there was anything waiting for her back at her apartment, anyway. Nothing but darkened rooms and a silence so stifling - so all-encompassing - that some nights, it was all she could do not to cry herself to sleep. She could not forget the warm weight of the body that had once laid besides hers and the soft sound of another's breathing in the darkness. _Roy's_ breathing. She used to lie awake at night listening to it, marvelling that after all they had suffered there was still a place where they could be together, safe and in love. Even now the same, steady rhythm seemed to echo through her empty room, a ghost of a sound, mocking her with what she had lost.

It had been nearly four years since the day Roy disappeared. Riza refused to think of it in any other terms, despite the official pronouncement of his death on a classified mission at the Cretan border, despite his continued absence, despite that there had been _nothing_ over the last few years to even suggest the possibility that he may still be alive. Well-meaning friends and co-workers had tried in vain to convince her to 'accept her loss' so she could begin to 'move on', but it was impossible. Riza had even, at the military's insistence, endured several uncomfortable sessions with a kindly yet patronising psychiatrist before she learned how to lie to the world. But the fact remained that she could not accept that Roy was dead. Everything about the situation was suspicious. Roy had been on a top-secret mission when he had-supposedly- died, a mission whose details were known only to the Fuhrer and some of the top brass, none of whom had shared any information. That Roy had been on the mission at all was itself suspicious; he'd never been trained in espionage and his particular talents were hardly low-key. Added to that was the fact that his body had never been found: the official statement was that Roy had been killed by a terrorist group who had chosen to execute him in a symbolic manner- by burning him alive. Apparently, they had been very thorough. Riza had felt sick when she heard that, but she still refused to believe it. No matter the evidence, she knew with a conviction she could not even begin to explain that Roy was alive.

Riza bit back a curse when her foot landed in a puddle she hadn't noticed was there, splashing dark spots of muddy water up the back of her uniform trousers and her new, cream coat. A minor thing, of course, but some days it felt as though she could easily break under the accumulated weight of all the _minor things_ in her life. All the tiny, inconsequential misfortunes and unpleasantries that built up with nothing to balance them out, no hope, no happiness. Not since that day nearly four years ago. It was even worse than usual recently; Rebecca had been transferred back to East City only three weeks ago, taking with her the only spark of brightness left in Riza's life. Throughout the years since Roy's disappearance, Rebecca was Riza's only true companion, the only person who stuck by her, the only one who was still able to make her smile. But she was gone now, along with everyone else.

A dull pool of yellow light spilling out from between two old apartment blocks caught her attention and she paused, considering. The streetlight illuminated the entrance to a winding, narrow alleyway, littered with broken bottles and overflowing rubbish bins. She had walked this way in the past and knew it would get her home a lot faster than the main road- but that had been on a bright, busy day and the run-down alley seemed to take on a much sinister air under the weight of dark clouds and the sickly glow of cheap artificial lighting. What the hell, she eventually decided; she had her gun with her. She doubted there'd be anything in the alley more dangerous than her.

She turned the corner into the alley, careful to avoid stepping on any broken glass or in any more puddles. The shadows seemed to swallow her up almost instantly, the apartments towering above her, empty and lifeless. She wondered if anyone still lived in them anymore or if they had been derelict for years. The area of Central she lived in was hardly prosperous and old, unused buildings lay littered throughout the streets like the abandoned shells of a more decadent age. Even her own second-floor flat, overlooking a children's park and a family owned bakery, could hardly be thought of as homely; particularly now. But even though she was earning far more than she ever had when she'd worked for Roy- the salary for the fuhrer's personal assistant was far greater than for an ordinary lieutenant- she couldn't bring herself to move. The memory of Roy was sunk deep into every brick and every strand of carpet in her tiny flat, his presence more alive than she herself had felt in years. To leave would be admitting that he would never return, would never need the safe familiarity of the bed they had shared and the floors they had walked along. That was something she could not do.

A sudden gust of wind pulled Riza out of her thoughts and she tugged at the collar of her coat, regretting once more that she hadn't thought to bring an umbrella. She heard a crash above her and glanced up, her hand reaching for her gun. A dark shape fell through the gap between buildings, crashing into washing lines and crawling at concrete walls. Riza strained to see in the dim light- a bird of some kind? But far larger than any bird she had ever seen before...

The creature let out a low moan as it hit the floor, still too distant for Riza to make it out clearly. Part of her wanted to rush towards it but caution held her back. Whatever it was, it was clearly injured and was likely to be dangerous. The creature cried again, softer this time, and it sounded so vulnerable and somehow so _human_ that Riza knew she had no choice but to help. She drew her gun from its holster, taking the safety off as she slowly advanced towards the creature. Moving closer, she could see that the creature was indeed a bird, similar in appearance to an eagle, although much larger. Blood swirled through the murky puddles surrounding it and she could see large gashes and cuts on its wings and body. The bird raised its head as she approached and Riza almost gasped at the force of the gaze directed at her. There was an intelligence behind those golden eyes that she had never seen in an animal before. But then, that was clearly no ordinary animal. _Chimera. _The thought flashed through her head unbidden, the idea seeming at once impossible and yet only too obvious. Could it be true? She had heard rumours, but surely not...

She was close enough to touch the creature now. Holding out a hand, she approached slowly, watching the bird for any hint of aggression. It stayed completely still, its eyes darting back and forth from her hand to her face, as if reading her expression. It keened as her fingers touched the back of its head, a low, broken sound that put her in mind of a sobbing child. The creature moved its head into the palm of her hand, gazing up at her all the while with those bright, golden eyes. Something about those eyes seemed familiar, unsettlingly so. She didn't understand how that could be yet the feeling would not go away.

Her fingers brushed against a gash on the side of the bird's head and it hissed at her, snapping its neck away from her reach with a force that made her hand tighten around her gun. The air crackled and sparked, a blue light rising from the creature. She recognised it instantly- alchemy. Riza backed away, raising her gun, but the light died out before she could shoot and the creature collapsed to the ground. It wasn't moving. There was something still glowing faintly on the back of its neck, a symbol of some kind, possibly an array. Riza drew closer, her gun almost falling from her hand as she realised what it was she was looking at. Carved into the creature's neck, the red lines glowing against black feathers, was the array for flame alchemy. Roy's array.

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_ A/N: Thanks for reading! x_


	3. Chapter 2

_A/N: Omg, this chapter took ages. Sorry for the wait, I have ten exams coming up in under a month's time and I am no way prepared. I'm going to die omg. But I shall do so having published this chapter, at least! :D Hope you enjoy it. Thanks to my amazing beta Antigone Rex and to Mebh and ThousandSunnyLyon for their encouragement. _

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Riza locked her front door behind her, struggling over to the kitchen table where she laid the creature down. The bird was far lighter than its size would suggest but it was by no means weightless and the walk back to her flat had not been easy. But leaving it... _him_... had not been an option.

Riza collapsed into a chair, leaning both arms against the tabletop. She gazed over the creature, noticing the cuts and grazes that were even more obvious in the warm overhead lighting. Still-drying blood glistened on its thin body and tattered feathers. In its unconscious state, the all too human intelligence she had seen in its eyes was no longer detectable and she found herself wondering, for the briefest moment, if she had made a mistake. But then the memory of those golden eyes surfaced once more, brushing aside all uncertainty. She couldn't explain how, but she knew with everything inside her that this creature- this chimera- was Roy. Some part of her had recognised him straight away but it had taken the appearance of Roy's array for her to realise it. Riza couldn't bring herself to imagine what he had gone through, or who had done it to him. Possibilities raced through her mind but she pushed them away. There would be plenty of time for explanations later- if Roy was able to give them. How much humanity did he have left? He hadn't even recognised her...

Riza clenched her hand into a fist, digging her nails into her palm. She couldn't think of that. She needed to address the problems in front of her, not worry about the future. She walked over to the other end of the kitchen, searching through the cupboard for the first aid kit. It was on the top shelf, covered in a thick layer of dust. The last time she'd needed it had been for Roy, too. It had been a minor assignment, a run-in with a rogue alchemist; their first mission since the end of the war. Roy had sat at the same kitchen table as she bandaged his arm, smiling at her reproachful looks. He had disappeared only weeks afterwards.

Reaching up, she pulled the box down from the shelf. The catch opened easily and she pulled out a syringe and the bandage roll. She filled the syringe with warm water at the sink, frowning as rust ran from the tap for the first few minutes. Riza glanced back at the chimera, gripping the bandage until her knuckles went white to keep her hand from shaking. How was she meant to do this? How could she possibly hope to help him, to bring him back to himself when she didn't even know how to treat his wounds?

She walked back to the table, gazing down at the chimera for any sign of the man she loved. Nothing about him was human anymore but the sense of recognition only grew stronger. Riza reached towards Roy, gently turning him over to inspect his injuries. His feathers were still damp from the rain and softer than anything she'd felt before. His wings and back were covered in cuts, all shallow but rough-edged and filled with dirt. She began to clean the largest cuts, flooding the wounds with water and dabbing them clean with the cloth. She shut off the thoughts racing through her mind and concentrated only on the memories of first aid training at military academy. She covered each injury in gauze, pleased to see that all the cuts had stopped bleeding. She knew she would have struggled if she'd had to use stitches.

Riza stroked Roy's head again, her fingers skimming over the brand on the back of his neck. The feathers around the array were slightly warm to the touch, although she couldn't understand why. She remembered the flash of blue light in the alleyway before Roy had fallen unconscious; undoubtedly an alchemical reaction of some kind. Did he still have the ability to summon fire in this form? His talons caught her attention, steel grey and wickedly sharp. Riza reached down to touch them and the stinging of her fingertip confirmed what she had suspected; they seemed to be coated with some kind of rough, flint-like surface. She felt sick. There could be almost no doubt now: whoever had done this to Roy had deliberately designed him to be a weapon of war, a perfect alchemic machine. What had he been forced to do during the last four years? How many times had he been injured like this, or worse? She couldn't let herself think of it. She had to keep busy.

Rummaging through the cupboard in her bedroom, Riza pulled out several old blankets and the dog basket she still hadn't thrown away. Years ago, not long after Roy had first disappeared, Rebecca had tried to convince her to adopt a dog. She'd resisted at first but Rebecca showed her a picture of a puppy she'd found and Riza's heart had melted. She bought a dog basket and a dog bowl, spent hours running through suitable names and had even started mapping out good walking routes through the city. Two days before she was due to adopt the dog, it ran away and she never saw it again. At least it would come in useful now.

Dragging the basket into the centre of her room, Riza arranged the blankets inside it before returning to the kitchen. Roy was still sleeping and she picked him up as carefully as possible, carrying him back to her room. He seemed heavier than before although it was probably just that she was tired. She laid him down in the basket, arranging the blankets around him before curling up in her chair. She switched on her bedside lamp and picked up her book from the table. Yesterday she had been engrossed in the novel but now she could barely focus on a single word. She forced herself to keep reading, needing the distraction from the soft breathing coming from the bundle in the centre of the room and the memory of alien, yet strangely familiar, golden eyes staring up at her from the darkness.

* * *

A rustling sound from across the room jolted Riza awake. Her book fell from her lap, unnoticed, as she sat up, peering through the dim light to where Roy was lying. She could hardly make him out... she didn't know what to expect from him. Would he be as terrified as in the alley? She stood up, breathing deeply in an effort to calm herself. The rustling grew louder as she approached and she reminded herself to move slowly. Roy hissed at her, his golden eyes staring unblinking into hers. He was standing up fully in his makeshift bed but his legs shook and his wings were tucked behind his back. Riza crouched down, edging forward a few inches, keeping her expression calm and unthreatening. She'd always been told that she had a way with wild animals and, as much as it pained her, that was how she needed to think of Roy for now. He hissed again, his claws tearing at the blankets beneath his feet. He snapped at her as she drew near.

"Roy?" It was an effort to keep her voice steady. "Roy, it's me, Riza. Do you remember me?"

He paused, tilting his head to one side. Hope leapt up inside her, a giddy rush so strong it was all she could do to keep her balance. Riza reached towards him and he drew back, his claws tearing through the air before her hand. She moved back slightly, withdrawing her hand and sitting back on her heels. For a moment she and Roy stayed completely still, staring at each other with unblinking eyes. He shifted forward, still staring at her with suspicion but his curiosity was clearly beginning to overcome his fear.

"It's okay, Roy, I won't hurt you, I promise. It's Riza, remember? I promise you'll be okay, I'm going to help you..." Her voice seemed to calm him so she kept on talking, barely knowing what she was saying, doubting that it made any difference. He recognised her voice... that alone was more than she could have hoped for at first. Slowly he drew closer and closer, until he was close enough to touch but this time Riza was careful not to move. Roy nudged at her hand with his beak, at first gently, but then with more insistence. At least some things about him hadn't changed. The thought was almost enough to make her smile until she noticed how distressed he seemed. He was still shaking and barely able to stand, his eyes gazing up at her in a way she could only describe as pleading. Of course, she realised, he was probably starving. Who knew how long it had been since he'd had a proper meal? She stood up carefully, keeping her eyes on Roy until she was out of the room. He called out as she walked away but made no move to go after her. He probably couldn't even if he tried.

In the kitchen, Riza stared at the fridge, wondering what she should give him. Roy was a chimera, yet his body seemed to be completely animal. A human diet would probably do more harm than good, then. She'd gone shopping the day before, thankfully, and meat had been on offer at the butchers. She pulled out the steak she'd been saving for the weekend and the chicken scraps left over from the night before. It wasn't much, but it would have to do. Cutting it up into more manageable pieces, she put the meat into the dog bowl she still hadn't thrown away. It made her uneasy, the dog bowl and the dog basket; Roy was trapped in an animal's body but he was still human. She couldn't let herself think otherwise.

Roy fell upon the food as soon as she put it down before him, gulping down the lumps of raw meat in a single smooth motion, his beak scraping at the bottom of the bowl when everything was gone. He was clearly still hungry but she had nothing more to give him.

"Tomorrow," Riza promised, stroking his head. She didn't know if he understood her, but he seemed calmed by her words and touch. His eyes began to droop, the action seeming incongruously human on such an alien face. Within moments he was asleep. She tucked the blankets around him before turning off the lights and crawling into bed.

* * *

Riza sighed, closing the journal and pushing it across the desk. As she feared, information on chimera research was almost impossible to find. Her visit to Central Library had turned up nothing but fifty year old research papers and antiquated books, even with her status of the Fuhrer's personal assistant. How could she ever hope to help Roy if she knew nothing about what had been done to him?

Roy looked up from his resting place on the other side of the desk, gazing at the journal with narrowed eyes. He walked over to it, pecking at its pages before nudging her cheek with his head. In the days since she had first found him Roy had grown increasingly comfortable around her, his initial wariness melting away and being replaced by an easy familiarity. As his strength recovered he started to follow her around the flat, curling up close to her at night and growing distressed whenever she went out. She'd called in sick at work so she could take care of him but even short trips to the market or the library seemed to worry Roy. Riza hoped he'd grow out of it if- _when_- he regained his human mind but she couldn't rush him. Four years of damage could not be undone with just a few days of kindness.

She was beginning to reach through to him though; each day it seemed as if he regained a little more of himself, the animal in him slipping further and further into the shadow. He had begun to recognise his own name, responding more and more to the things she said to him. Riza made a point of speaking to him as much as possible: stories from their childhood mostly, but also tales of their brief time in East City and the stories she'd heard from Maes about their years in the Academy. She'd even mentioned Ishval one night, wondering if a painful memory would get through to him in ways that a happy one could not, but it made no difference.

Photographs seemed to have a greater impact; it had become a ritual of theirs now for her to get out her old albums, memories from her family home, sepia snapshots of his childhood in Madame Christmas' bar and, above all others, Maes' pictures. Pictures of him and Roy from their Academy days, pictures of the three of them before the transfer to East City, pictures Maes had taken of her and Roy when they hadn't noticed. It hurt to look through those photographs, to remember how much things had changed but the recognition that seemed to grow in Roy's eyes with every image was more than worth it.

The sound of the doorbell rang though the flat and Roy lifted his head, suddenly wary. Riza shushed him, hiding the books under her desk before moving towards her bedroom door. She tried to ignore how fast her heart was beating, swallowing hard to dispel the sickness in her stomach. Could the military have discovered Roy already? She was sure she had been careful but perhaps visiting the library had been a mistake...

Roy followed her, hopping awkwardly down from the desk, his wings still not completely healed from the attack. Riza paused with her hand on the door handle, suddenly remembering. She was supposed to be ill, wasn't she? She grabbed her dressing gown from the back of the door, wrapping it around herself and hastily pulling out her hairclip. It was hardly convincing but it would have to do. The dark circles under her eyes were real, at least. She slipped out of the room and shut the door behind her, trying her best to ignore Roy's screeches of indignation at being left behind. She could only hope he wouldn't be loud enough to be heard from the front door.

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to look calm before opening the door. Maes' face stared back at her, a basket in one hand and a bunch of flowers tucked under his arm. For a moment she just stared at him, relief flowing through her, followed by confusion. It had been months since she's seen him last and she hadn't had a real conversation with him for over a year. It wasn't that they were avoiding each other exactly... it was just painful to see him, to be reminded that the person who had brought them together was no longer there.

Maes smiled, lifting the basket up. "Maria told me you were ill so I thought I'd come over and check you were alright. I brought you some pie... Gracia made it this morning."

Riza accepted the basket, motioning for him to come into the hall. It probably wasn't wise to invite him in but it would look too suspicious otherwise. She couldn't think what to say, still struggling to accept that it was safe; that she and Roy were not about to be dragged out and arrested.

"Thanks," Riza got out at last. She hoped Maes would put the weakness in her voice down to the effects of illness and surprise at his appearance. There was some truth to that... it seemed strange that he would turn up so suddenly after such a long absence. "I'm feeling a bit better now... apparently it was flu. The doctor recommended I take at least a week's break to recover properly."

She was rambling, she knew. Maes worked in Investigations and, to him, her long-winded excuses would sound instantly suspicious. She had to stop.

"Would you like some tea?" Riza asked, hoping to distract him. She took the flowers from him and headed into the kitchen, glancing back at him from over her shoulder. She'd smashed all her vases against the wall four years ago, but he didn't need to know that.

Maes shook his head, following her into the kitchen. "I'm fine, I don't want to put you to any trouble. I really just came here to check that everything was okay. I've never known you to take even a day off work so when I heard you hadn't been in for a whole week I thought you must be really ill."

Oh no. Did he suspect something? She'd feared this would happen. She knew she could trust Maes, but would he even believe her? She couldn't let anything disrupt Roy's recovery. As if on cue, Roy chose that moment to start screeching, his high pitched cries muffled through the walls but unmistakable all the same. Maes jumped, turning to her with raised eyebrows.

"What was _that_?" His eyes narrowed and he glanced around the room. "It sounded like it was coming from inside the flat..."

Riza laughed, hoping it didn't sound too forced. "Oh, a bird nested on the ledge outside my bedroom window, that's all. It does that from time to time. I haven't been able to convince it to leave yet." She could hear Roy's claws scraping against the door and she could tell Maes was still suspicious. She had to get him out soon.

"I-"She paused to cough, watching Maes' alarmed expression from the corner of her eye. "I really appreciate you coming round, Maes, I do, but I'm still not feeling well and I don't want you to catch what I have. My doctor said it was pretty contagious." Roy was still scratching the wall in her bedroom. Riza put the flowers and the basket down and began clearing up the kitchen counter, clattering the gathered mugs and bowls together in the hope of drowning out the noise.

Maes nodded but he didn't look happy. "Okay... if you're sure. But Riza..." He paused, staring right into her eyes. She struggled not to look away, uncomfortable with the concern she saw in his gaze. "Is everything okay? I know I haven't kept in contact much recently but... if something were wrong, you'd tell me, right?"

"I'm fine, Maes, I promise." Riza assured him. She smiled, trying her best to project an air of sincerity. "Really, nothing's wrong. I'll be alright." She followed him to the front door, saying a hurried goodbye and watching him walk away before closing the door. She felt bad for making him leave so soon, truthfully she would have loved to have talked with him for longer, but it was just too risky. She rushed back to her room, opening the door to find Roy staring right up at her. Papers were scattered around the room but she barely spared them a glance. Roy was shaking, a strange look in his golden eyes. Something was wrong.

Roy was holding something in his beak and he pushed it towards her as she came in the room, dropping it at her feet. She knelt to pick it up, and her breath caught as she realised what she was looking at. It was a photo, one they had looked at the other night. In it, Roy was standing between her and Maes, his arms around both of their shoulders. They were all smiling, the east city sunset lighting the sides of their faces. Riza looked back at Roy, gazing into his eyes. She gasped as she realised just what it was she saw. Recognition. He had come back to her at last.

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_ Thanks for reading! Please leave a review if you can. :)_


	4. Chapter 3

_A/N: Sorry for the late posting, as usual! I've been doing exams and learning to drive and generally having one of the most stressful times of my entire life so writing kind of fell by the wayside for a while. But now I am back! :D Hope you enjoy this chapter. Thanks to my amazing beta **Antigone Re**x for looking over this story and being wonderfully supportive as always. If you haven't already you should definitely check out her multichap fic** Reverberations. **Do it. Now. _

_As usual I do not own FMA_.

* * *

After the third day, Riza was certain Roy was avoiding her. Ever since Maes' visit he refused to look her in the eyes or answer her when she spoke to him, even though she knew he could understand. He hid from her throughout the day, only appearing when it was time for food and slinking off as soon as he had eaten. He had taken to sleeping in the kitchen now, curled up next to the boiler for warmth, rather than at the foot of her bed as he had before. A few times in the last few nights she had woken up in the early hours to find him sleeping next to her, his face pressed in close against her neck, but when she tried to reach out to him he hurried away.

Riza knew she had no way of understanding how Roy was feeling. Coming to terms with all that had been done to him, with all that he had lost... she could not begin to imagine what it must be like. It was only natural that he would want to be alone in those first few days. But even so, she wished he could understand that she was there for him. He was not to blame for the cruelties inflicted upon him, and she could not let him think so. It hurt to think that he didn't trust her, that he believed she would think less of him now. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Riza rubbed a hand over her eyes, taking a long draught from the now cold mug of coffee on her desk. Her sleep had been fitful ever since she had found Roy and it seemed that all those troubled nights were catching up with her now. But she couldn't afford to rest. In only a few days her leave would run out and she would have to return to work, no matter what condition Roy was in. She had hoped that when Roy regained his mind he would have changed back into a human but so far he seemed unwilling to do so. Was it fear of her reaction that kept him in his chimera form? Or was he unable to change back?

She suppressed a sigh, turning back to the book in front of her. Not that there seemed any point... if there had ever been any truly useful research on chimeras in Central Library, it had long been destroyed. Still, she needed to do something, no matter how futile.

A screech cut through the silence of the flat, followed by the unmistakable sound of shattering glass. Riza leapt out of her chair, following the sound down the hall, towards the bathroom. The screeching continued, quieting to a rasping, choking sound, almost like crying. She tore open the door to the bathroom, rushing in to find Roy surrounded by shards of broken glass, blood dripping down his face and onto his beak from a gash on his head. The empty mirror frame hung from the wall, a few pieces of glass still clinging to its sides. She sank to her knees beside him, feeling the sting of glass cutting into her knees but not caring. Roy needed her then, that was all she knew.

Roy gazed at her for a moment, his golden eyes blinking away beads of blood. He took a faltering step towards her, his claws scratching against the wooden floor as he walked. Riza gathered him in her arms, the first time he had let her touch him since Maes' visit, and held him until he grew calm. She picked him up and carried him into the living room, holding him gently, mindful of his still-healing wings. Riza set Roy down on the floor by the sofa, heading towards the kitchen to fetch the first-aid box. Roy looked up as she walked away but made no sound of protest. It was hard for Riza to interpret his emotions now, but he seemed to be in shock.

She carried the first aid box back to the living room, crouching down beside Roy to inspect the cut on his head. It was still bleeding, but slower now, and did not appear as bad as it had first seemed. She cleaned the wound, making sure there were no tiny shards of glass embedded in Roy's skin. Blood was beginning to congeal in the dark feathers closest to the cut and she dabbed them clean gently, not wanting to cause him pain. She was sure it still hurt but Roy remained silent. When she was done, Riza put the box to one side, turning back to see that Roy had shuffled closer to her. He was shaking and his eyes were turned towards the ground, as they had been ever since he had remembered who he was. Riza froze, knowing that even the slightest movement could scare him away, even now. Slowly, Roy lifted his head until his eyes met hers. His golden eyes were incapable of crying but Riza suppressed a gasp at the pain she saw in his gaze.

She reached out to him, her fingers only just daring to touch the dark feathers on the top of his head. Roy leaned into her touch, his golden eyes never leaving her face, his gaze piercing and unsettling. But Riza could see the intelligence trapped behind those inhuman eyes, the soul she once feared forever lost and the suffering that came with it. Roy understood all too well now what had been done to him and the horror and shame of it made him shy away from her, unable to bear what he had become. But as much as she wanted to save him from pain, she could not allow him to hide behind his chimera form forever. She needed him to be human again, to return to her.

"Please, Roy," She whispered. Her grip on her emotions was becoming weaker and weaker but she couldn't bring herself to care. All the pain and desolation of thinking him dead for so many years combined with the terror and the brittle, heart wrenching hope of the last few weeks... it was too much for her to bear. A tear coursed down her cheek, and then another, but this time she did not try to hide it. She started as Roy's feathers ghosted over her face, the tip of his wing brushing her tears away. For a long moment they did nothing but stare at each other, only the soft sound of breathing breaking the silence. Roy's eyes were eloquent with everything he could not express. She saw the fear and guilt burnt into their golden depths and the shame, followed finally by acceptance. He nodded once, turning his head to give her a gentle nip on the finger. She remembered the way he used to kiss the tips of her fingers when they were alone, as if she were the most precious thing in the world, and it was all she could do to stop the tears welling up once more.

Roy flapped his wings, motioning for her to move away. All playfulness was gone from his movements now and his wings shook slightly when he spread them out, as if preparing to fly. She took another step back, suddenly afraid as tremors began to shake his body. The deep blue smoke of an alchemical reaction started to rise around him, obscuring him from sight and Riza gasped as the first scream tore its way out of him, a high, inhuman shriek that spoke of nothing but pain. It was soon followed by another, then another and another, until the night was filled with nothing but Roy's agonised screams. Blue light emanated from his twisted form, burning into her retinas until she had no choice but to look away. She pressed her hands to her ears, no longer able to listen to him suffer any longer, but it was no use. Through the cacophony of cries she could make out other sounds as well; the cracking of his ribs, the grinding of bone against bone and the tearing of flesh. His body was ripping itself apart, she realised, bile rising inside her throat at the horror of the thought. She turned away from the gruesome scene and prayed for it to be over.

After what seemed like a lifetime, the pitch of his screams began to change. No longer were they the piercing screeches of some unnatural creature but instead the low, heart wrenching cries of a human voice. _Roy's_ voice. He had come back to her at last. Riza dared to lift her eyes back to him as the unearthly light began to fade, the dark smoke disappearing into nothingness. He was lying curled up on himself in the middle of her carpet, matted hair falling halfway down his back. Even from a distance she could see his awful thinness, his bones almost threatening to cut through his too-pale skin. But even more than that, something was wrong. The lamps in her sitting room were dim and she struggled to see him clearly in the poor light. Something about him looked...odd... somehow. And why was he hiding himself away from her so much? Was he ashamed of his nakedness? It had been a long time since they had been so familiar with each other, after all. Or was it because he was so thin now? Surely he would know that neither of those things mattered to her.

Riza took another step forward and stopped dead, unable to prevent a cry of horror from escaping her mouth. Now she understood why Roy was unable to face her, why he had refused to change for so long. Burn scars stretched across almost the entirety of his back and legs, his flesh marbled unnatural shades of white and pink, his skin thick and rippling. She rushed towards him, her hands shaking and her stomach churning as she turned him around. Her touch was as gentle as possible but Roy still flinched away, trying in vain to curl up again, to hide himself from her view. As she had feared, the burns extended across his torso and shoulders too. Somehow, miraculously, his face and most of his arms had been spared. Perhaps it was a little too miraculous. The dark thought occurred to her that perhaps whoever had turned Roy into a chimera had also done this, as another one of their... _experiments_. The idea was so horrendous it was all she could do to keep her features steady and prevent her disgust from showing on her face. She couldn't bear for Roy to think the expression was because of him.

Riza gathered him into her arms, paying no mind when he tensed and struggled against her before he finally gave in. Roy sobbed against her shoulder, violent shudders racking his body as he gave voice to all the pain and terror that had been trapped inside him for so long. She whispered meaningless words of comfort to him, one hand cradling his head while the other stroked the ruined skin of his back. She didn't know if he could even feel her touch or if Roy's tormentors had taken even that away from him, too. One day, she promised herself, she would find whoever did this to Roy and make them suffer as he had, and then worse. With some difficulty, Riza forced her mind away from that path, shocked by her own vengeful thoughts. She couldn't concentrate on such things right now; taking care of Roy was the priority.

It took a long time for Roy to calm but Riza had no problem being patient. However long he needed, she would be there for him. Eventually his tears ceased and he moved away from her, only resting one hand against her shoulder to steady himself. As soon as he had gained control of his emotions, he turned away, hiding his face and avoiding her eyes. She didn't know if he was ashamed of his tears or of his damaged appearance but she knew that neither one mattered to her and she could not let him believe they did. She brought her palm up to rest on his cheek, making him meet her gaze. The sight of his eyes- dark, intelligent and so wonderfully human- was one of the most beautiful in the world.

"I'm sorry you have to see me like this," Roy whispered, his voice hoarse and cracked with disuse. He gestured to his scarred torso, self-disgust clear in his expression. "I know it must be a shock."

"Roy, what you look like doesn't matter to me," She told him, needing him to understand. He flinched as she gently touched a hand to his chest, above the worst of the scarring. "These scars don't change how I feel about you. My reaction before... that was only because I was angry that someone had done this to you, someone had hurt you so badly." Shadows began to gather in his eyes at her words and she could have cursed herself for being so thoughtless. The last thing she wanted to do was to remind him of everything he had suffered. She needed to move the conversation on to more practical things, to ground him in the present and reassure him that he was safe now, and loved.

"But that's not important right now," she continued, forcing a smile onto her lips. "The important thing is that you've come back and you're alright now. You..." her smile faltered as she tried without success to hold back the sudden flood of emotion. "You don't know how happy I am that you've returned, Roy..." It was only now that she could admit to herself just how terrified she had been that he might never turn back to a human at all. The relief was sharp and overpowering, bringing tears to her eyes for the second time that night. But unlike before, she could not afford to indulge in them.

"Anyway, now that you are human again, what is it you want first?" she asked, forcing her mood back to brightness. "Food? Rest? A bath?"

"A bath." Roy replied without a moment's hesitation, his sure tone a reminder of the headstrong young lieutenant colonel he had once been. "More than anything. I haven't felt clean in so long..."

There was a haunted edge to his words but she had no choice but to ignore it. Love and affection would help Roy, not pity. Belatedly, she realised how strongly he was shivering. It wasn't particularly cold in her sitting room, but now he was human Roy had no thick coat of feathers to keep him warm. He was so thin, it seemed even the slightest chill would cut right through him. She cast around for the woollen blanket draped over the sofa and threw it across Roy's shoulders. He clutched it with both hands and drew it around himself tightly. Sharp guilt spiked into her at the look he gave her, so grateful when she had been so negligent. How could she not have noticed how cold he was? Roy tried to stand but she stopped him, unsure of his legs' ability to support him unassisted. He seemed so fragile still, as if a simple fall could shatter him into pieces.

"No you don't..." she muttered, smiling at his disgruntled look. He knew as well as she did that he needed help but he couldn't bring himself to ask for it. It seemed he hadn't changed that much, after all. She rose to her feet before helping him, slowly, to stand on his, adjusting the blanket from where it had slipped from his shoulder. His legs shook a little as he stood on them and she had to bite back another wave of sorrow at the sight of how weak he had become.

The bathroom was only down the hall yet they might as well have been walking to Drachma for the effort it cost Roy. Riza let him lean on her as much as he needed to, supporting him through each slow, trembling step. She wondered how long it would take for him to regain his strength, to become used to his human body once more. He seemed so changed, and not just from the scars or the weight loss- she was sure he used to be taller, too, and broader-shouldered. Just what had those people done to him? And how much of it could be undone?

At last, she guided Roy into her tiny bathroom, helping him down to rest on the wooden floor next to the bathtub. The room was narrow; the tub pressed up close to the wall and, with the sink against the opposite wall, there was barely space for him to sit comfortably. The broken glass from the mirror was still scattered across the floor on the other side of the room and she noticed Roy glance at it, his unease clear. She considered rushing back to the kitchen to get the broom but the glass was far enough away that they wouldn't step on it and she didn't want to leave Roy alone, even for a moment.

Riza sat on the edge of the tub, looking down at him, and began to run the bath, swirling the water to check its temperature. The thundering cascade was the only sound in the small room and although Riza wanted desperately to break the silence she could think of nothing that would be right to say. She had questions, of course, so many questions to ask of him, but now was not the time. Roy was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and she could not risk distressing him further by asking him to relive unpleasant memories. But what else could she say? Nothing had relevance between them anymore.

"What happened to my team?" The question came out of nowhere and Riza started as his words broke her out of contemplation. Already his voice was so much stronger than it had been before, carrying a hint of its old, easy authority. She glanced down, meeting his eyes and saw the fear that hid behind the confident tone. He had only had command over the team for six months yet she knew he still felt a sense of responsibility towards them, even after all that had happened. Here, at least, was one thing to be grateful for. "They're all fine, Roy," She told him softly. "Falman got transferred up North; I heard he's going to be married soon. And Fuery got sent to the West a few months ago. I think he's happy there. Breda and Havoc are still here in Central; I see them every now and then although we're all under different commanding officers now."

"I see," Roy replied, a small smile on his lips, the first she had seen in four years. Warmth filled her at the sight and she couldn't help reaching down and running her fingers through his hair, the way she had so many times before. He leaned back into her touch, his eyes shut and a look of contentment on his face. "I'm so glad they're all alright. And Falman, engaged! I always thought he'd surprise us in the end. The quiet ones always do. What about Hughes? Did he ever marry that girl Gracia in the end, the one he was engaged to?

"He did," Riza replied, smiling back at him. It felt good to be able to share happy news after all the sorrows they'd been through. "They've been married for just over three years and they've got a little daughter called Elysia. She's coming up to her second birthday now. I don't see Hughes all that often any more, but whenever I do he always rushes to bury me under pictures of his beautiful little girl."

Roy laughed, a quiet, joyful sound and to Riza it felt like the first warm rays of sunshine after a season of rain. At that moment she was filled with the sure conviction that everything would be alright. _Roy_ would be alright. He had been robbed of everything he had known, taken and tortured and transformed into an inhuman creature yet he could still laugh. She hadn't thought it was possible to love another person as much as she loved Roy just then. "That's wonderful," he sighed, his head falling back to rest against the edge of the bath. He gazed up at her, his dark eyes alive with joy. "It sounds like Hughes has hardly changed at all. Except for now it's pictures of his adorable daughter, not his gorgeous girlfriend. I'm so happy to hear that everyone's doing well." The smile fell from his face abruptly, the brief moment of happiness shattering without warning. "I don't think I'd have been able to bear it, if something had happened to you or Hughes or anyone. All..." he took a deep breath, turning his head to stare at the floor. Roy's voice was barely more than a whisper now and Riza tried hard not to notice how badly it was shaking as he spoke. "All throughout the time I was captured... when I could still remember who I was, that is... I just kept thinking of you all, safe here in Central. It was the only thing that helped me survive during that time, the hope that one day I could get free and find my way back to you."

Was it possible for her heart to break any further? Riza twisted the taps closed and sank down to the floor, cradling Roy in her arms for the second time that night. She didn't try to say anything, for what could she say to make this better? He turned away from her, pressing a hand against his mouth to stifle a sob, closing his eyes as the first few tears spilled from them and ran down his cheeks. This time his weeping was mostly silent, more controlled than the raw, anguished grief from before. Riza let him cry for as long as he needed to, glad in some way that he was not trying to lock away his emotions. She suspected Roy would need many more moments like this before he could finally begin to heal.

After only a few minutes he sat back against the tub, wiping his eyes with the corner of the blanket and giving her a small smile, most likely to assure her that he was feeling more composed and was not going to descend into another bout of crying. Knowing that emotional displays embarrassed Roy- and, to be fair, normally they embarrassed her too, but this was hardly a normal situation and Roy was certainly not a normal person to her - Riza turned her attention back to the bath, swirling her hand through the water to check the temperature.

"The bath's ready now," she told Roy. She helped him up to sit on the edge of the tub, letting him rest against her for balance. Although if Riza were honest with herself, the contact was probably every bit as much for her sake as it was for his. The weight of Roy's body against hers, alive and human, however damaged, was intensely reassuring; a tangible reminder from each moment to the next that this was real, he had truly returned. She watched as he leaned forward to touch the water, a smile lighting up his face as he moved his hand back and forth. Roy's happiness was wonderful to see but it saddened her at the same time, to think of the kind of life he must have led to make something as simple as a bath seem like a luxury.

After a little while, Roy seemed to reach a decision. Gripping the edge of the tub with trembling hands, he shifted around until both of his legs hovered above the water, the blanket still wrapped tightly around his upper body. Roy flinched as his feet touched the warm water, pulling them back with a gasp, the knuckles of his hand that held the bathtub turning white. Riza put a hand against his back to steady him, rubbing soothing circles between his shoulder blades as Roy fought to slow his breathing.

"What's wrong, Roy? Is the bath too hot?" She was sure she'd been careful, but perhaps Roy was more susceptible to pain now he was newly returned to his human body. The last thing she wanted to do was to cause him more pain, after everything he had already suffered.

"No, no it's not that," Roy replied, his words hurried and his tone light, as if he had guessed her fears. "I'm not hurt. It's just, well... after spending so much time trapped in... in that body... the idea of submerging myself entirely in water seems a little strange." He smiled up at her and this time the sight was heartbreaking. "Birds aren't really all that fond of being surrounded by water, as I'm sure you can imagine. I suppose I should have expected this; it was always going to take a while for me to fully get used to being human again. This seems like a good a place to start as any." He took a deep, calming breath before plunging both his feet into the water and slowly lowering himself into the bath. Riza took the blanket from him before it could get wet and watched as Roy sank down into the water, his wide-eyed, anxious expression slowly disappearing and a gentle smile spreading across his face.

Roy closed his eyes and leant his head against the back of the tub, his long hair almost completely submerged in the water. For a long time he was silent, his face completely peaceful. Riza gazed down at him, the quiet warmth of her love filling her heart. His scars and suffering seemed to disappear before her eyes, eclipsed by the knowledge that behind them the man she loved remained the same. He had endured horrors; that was true, and what had happened would haunt him until he died, but he had survived with his soul intact. Riza knew that she would never be more grateful for anything than she was for that.

Roy's eyes snapped open and he sat up in the bath, the sudden movement startling Riza. "My hair is filthy..." he moaned, holding long, dripping wet strands of it away from his shoulders. The look on his face was identical to the indignant pout Riza had seen on his face so many times in the past and she could not help but laugh at the sight. "Would you cut it for me, Riza?" Roy asked. "I don't think I really suit the long haired look. My old haircut looked much better."

Roy's tone was playful and he was smiling but Riza could hear what he was really saying behind the joking words. _I want to go back to how things were before... as much as possible, I want things to be the same as they were._ But they both knew that could never happen. Even if there were some way of undoing what had been done to Roy, their situation had changed irrevocably. Roy was an outcast now, considered dead by all who had known him and hunted by whatever monstrous organisation from which he had escaped. He had lost everything; his home, his position, his team... his dream of becoming fuhrer and ending the dictatorship in Amestris was gone forever now. Nothing could ever be the same.

Riza reached for the scissors and comb in the cupboard under the bathroom sink. Turning back to look at Roy, she decided to leave the comb. There was no way it was going to get anywhere near that tangled mane of hair. Roy leaned back in the bath again, gazing up at her as she sat perched on the side of the tub, starting to cut his hair. He was completely silent once more, his expression unreadable. For a long time, the only sounds filling the room were the soft, metallic snipping of the scissors and the quiet, dull thud as the strands of wet hair hit the floor.

* * *

_ Thanks for reading guys! And thanks to everyone who's reviewed recently, I'm sorry I've been so rubbish at replying. I'm trying to get better at that now. _


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